Abnormal
by Draceline
Summary: When a woman with wild hair and a fantastic tale mysteriously appears in the Old City Sanctuary SHU, Magnus and Tesla are drawn into a world that, despite their sources, they did not know existed, and could very well hold part of the key to prevent the very world from turning to ash.


Thanks to the very wonderful TycheSong for betaing this pesky beastie, and for being the wall to bounce my rubberized ideas off of. Especially since she had no knowledge of the Sanctuary fandom prior to this endeavor.

**Disclaimer:** _The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story. J.K. Rowling belongs to herself. Sanctuary belongs to Syfy and its own writers and producers._

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**Abnormal - Chapter 1**

The last thing she remembered before she blacked out was the smooth voice of a man behind her.

"And what, pray tell, are you?"

Then, a small shock near the base of her skull, then... nothing... like she was put under anesthesia or some form of dreamless sleep potion. When she woke in a new chamber, hooked up to an IV drip (merely saline, thankfully, or so the label on the bag proclaimed), and a heart monitor (how in Circe's name was it working?), she began to attempt to piece together the events leading up to her rather, ehm... unexpected nap.

She couldn't for the life of her figure out why she hadn't sensed the presence of the man in the same room prior to his question. She had alarms. She had sensors. For Merlin's sake, she set wards strong enough to keep a _dragon_ from finding her, much less enter the room she had been in.

What had happened?

"Ahh, our mysterious sleeping beauty awakens," announced the same voice as before.

She nearly gave herself a rather severe case of whiplash as she snapped her head to face the man as he walked into the room through the formerly solid wall.

"I apologize for my colleagues rude behavior. We were not expecting guests in the high security containment area. He tends to be a bit jumpy when people get past his security systems."

He came closer to her hospital bed, narrowing his eyes. "You gave us quite the surprise when you tripped the E.M. alarms in that sector. You look normal. And yet we, as of now, have yet to find any devices, electronic or otherwise, that would have created that particular frequency."

He leaned nearer still—head tilted to one side, eyebrow raised—examining her face, searching for a tell. She almost felt as though he could see through her.

And then he asked again, almost as if to himself, "What are you?"

"Nikola!" a new voice manifested, floating through the still open doorway, moments before a dark-haired woman appeared. "I am glad you felt the desire to check on her. Nonetheless, I would greatly appreciate it if you would kindly stop harassing my patient." The woman waved him off and moved to check the IV and the monitor, marking the chart in her hands. "Well? Go! Shut your jaw before you catch flies and go fix my house!"

"For the last time, Helen, I am not a house-elf!" the man, Nikola, snapped in response, yet still moving to leave.

"Yes, Dobby. Thank you, Dobby," the woman, now known to her as Helen, replied dismissively. Nikola turned back toward Helen, finger raised, mouth open, ready to make a scathing retort. Fortunately for him, however, he never got to finish before his previous statement finally sank in to their companion's auditory processing center.

"How do you know about house-elves?" she nearly shouted, eyes wide, half frantic.

The pair paused in their actions and looked at her oddly.

"So she does speak," Nikola stated, smirking again.

"Well," Helen said, not unkindly, "Now that we know you can understand us, I would like to ask you a few questions. First—"

"My name is Hermione. Now how do you know about house-elves?"

"Harry Potter." Hermione's attention snapped to the man again, her eyes widening even further. "You know, Harry Potter. It's a children's book series. In fact one of the main characters is named Hermione Granger. It was written by a woman named Jo—"

"Joanne Rowling," Hermione ground out, and then proceeded to swear, very creatively, in three different languages. "I told Harry that he shouldn't have agreed to that interview! 'She's a squib,' he says. 'She wants to tell an accurate account of our story,' he says. 'She wouldn't do anything to expose us,' he says. No wonder you knew Dobby's name. When I get a hold of that woman..."

"Oh great. She's nuts," Nikola stated snidely. "The first exciting thing to happen in almost three months, and she thinks that children's books are real! Well, I've got some news for you. Harry Potter is—"

"Enough!" Helen shouted, interrupting his rant. "Nikola, what did I tell you about tormenting my patients?"

"She needs a reality check, Helen, that much is—"

But again, he was cut off mid-sentence, as Hermione made a short slashing motion through the air, the pads of her fingers and thumb coming together in a sign to be quiet. He blinked, surprised, and then tried to speak. Nothing came out of his throat. He tried again. Still silence. He grabbed his throat, looking panicked.

"Remarkable." Helen looked surprised and intrigued. "How did you do that?"

Hermione sighed. Until she got her wand back, she would have no choice but to cooperate, to tell them what they wanted to know. What little wandless magic she could perform in her current weakened state would not be enough to perform a memory modification and escape. Well, in that case, she would make sure that her own questions did not go unanswered.

"My name, as your friend was apt enough to guess, is Hermione Granger. I am a witch. And I have some questions for you as well."

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"Fascinating!"

Helen Magnus was, for lack of a better word, fascinated by the other British woman's story. Her own home country was home to a large population of previously undiscovered, self-isolated, 'magical' humans. They must have a slight mutation allowing them a certain amount of mental control over the physical world. Perhaps that had something to do with the strange E.M. field readings near the girl.

Nikola, for his part, was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the hospital bed that their guest was currently occupying. He had his arms crossed and a sour look on his face; Hermione had yet to remove the 'spell' that she had placed on him, so he was still unable to speak.

He instead compensated by doing the next best thing: sulking.

The younger woman glanced in his direction again, clearly becoming irritated by his sudden overwhelming need to tap his foot against the foot of her bed.

"Now that I have answered a number of your questions," she said to Helen whilst continuing to glare at Nikola, "maybe you would be so kind as to answer a few of my own? I will even remove the Silencing charm on your friend here."

"Of course, within reason. There are things that I must refuse, on grounds of patient privacy, and that you were found intruding in my basement, but I will be as honest as I feel will be safe. For both our sakes."

Hermione nodded. "That is fair enough." She then made a motion toward Nikola, as though she were tearing a strip of tape from his mouth. "You can talk now."

"Finally!" he exclaimed, annoyed. "Now—"

"_First,_" Hermione interrupted him yet again, "I have told you a great deal more than most muggles ever learn about the magical world, and I have yet to formally learn your names."

Helen looked slightly abashed.

"How could I have forgotten? I am Helen Magnus. I am the head of what is known as the Sanctuary network." Hermione nodded. She had heard of the Sanctuaries through a werewolf pack in Oldham. "This here is—"

"Nikola Tesla," he finished for her.

This time it was Hermione's turn to raise an eyebrow. She knew that name rather well. Mr. Weasley loved to ask how muggle things worked, requiring a great deal of research on her part in a never ending endeavor to answer him, and as a child, Hermione's father had bought her books about inventors like Tesla and Edison. "Tesla? You look a bit young. And, frankly, you don't seem very _dead_ to me."

"Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated." He smirked, showing exceptionally prominent eyeteeth. "Vampire blood does tend to prolong one's life, after all."

A look of sudden realization crossed her face. "That's why I couldn't sense you passing through my wards. Why didn't I notice before? You don't have the kind of energy signature that a normal human, magical or muggle, creates. But you don't feel like a vampire either..." she trailed off, perplexed.

"That's because he's not. And neither am I. At least not entirely," Helen responded. Hermione looked, if possible, even more confused.

Helen continued. "In our years at university we conducted experiments with a substance discovered by my father. According to his notes, it was the source blood of the _Sanguine vampiris_ species, or as you know them, vampires. As far as we had known, the species was extinct, but we hypothesized that the blood may have proven to be a vaccine or even a cure for many untreatable diseases. I extracted a serum from the blood and tested it on myself. It did not prove dangerous at that point, so my colleagues did the same."

"Each of us reacted to the blood differently," she explained. "Though we did not know at the time, I gained extreme longevity. One of our colleagues gained the ability to teleport from one place to another. Another was granted the ability to bend light, effectively becoming invisible. In Nikola's case, however, the blood reacted more intensely, activating a latent gene present in his DNA. Essentially, so far as we were able to determine, Nikola became a vampire. Though, by our more recent experiences, and by your reaction, I believe we may have been incorrect in our deduction."

"You would be right about that," Hermione said, "Mister Tesla is not a true vampire."

Then she stiffened slightly, looking toward the still open doorway.

"You should be thankful really," she continued, glancing at Tesla again, "if for no other reason than the life of the werewolf that I sense coming this way."

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End Notes:

The beastly plot bunny that has been pestering me for the last six months has finally been established!

As for the author/squib reference, that was, and will be, the only reference to Ms. Rowling that I will make, unless prompted to do otherwise. It was meant as a joke.

Tyche- My Em dashes got screwed up again. Sorry sweetie. I did my best and I tried to compensate.


End file.
